


Unstable Young Adults and their Murderous Lifestyles

by moshidopp



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Other, So is Jack, They're both assholes, Violence, jane is on the prowl watch your BACK jeff, jeff is an asshole, tagged as their canon names but these are basically my own interpretations at this point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:08:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26600416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moshidopp/pseuds/moshidopp
Summary: Jeff was having a good day, until he wasn't, and suddenly his life just got a whole lot more fucked up than it was before.As if being a notable serial murderer wasn't enough.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	Unstable Young Adults and their Murderous Lifestyles

**Author's Note:**

> “Who the hell even are you?” he yells. “Why the fuck do you wanna kill me so bad? I’ll kill you first, I mean it!”
> 
> That makes her stop for real this time. 
> 
> “Do you-” she startles, seemingly offended. “Do you not know me?”
> 
> “Should I?”
> 
> There’s a long, awkward silence where neither of them says anything. 
> 
> “You seriously don’t remember me....” she starts. “We-we went to the same middle school!”
> 
> Jeff scoffs. “I’m almost an adult now! You think I remember everybody I went to middle school with?”

Jeff was having a great day, to be honest.

Nothing beats the walk after a good kill. Some could call it dangerous to loiter around the town you just committed a murder in, but Jeff hardly agrees. The street he’s on is practically empty, and if anybody were to stumble across him, well, they should be more scared for their own safety than anything else.

And it seems to look like it’s his lucky day, as someone has just discarded a perfectly good pack of cigarettes on the sidewalk. Perfect.

Jeff leans forward and nabs them with one hand. In a single fluid motion, he shakes the pack’s already-loose top open and holds a cigarette between his pointer and middle finger. And his lighter- where’s his lighter?

“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me... Don’t tell me I left it somewhere…” he grumbles to himself as he pats around the inside of his jacket. “Where’s my fucking- where’s my goddamn lighter?...” He’s busy shifting around the pale-white folds of his winter jacket when-

“Oh my god.”

He- he would have been dead. He would have died. If he didn’t feel the attack coming from behind him, feel someone approach with distinct intent. And despite his non-belief, Jeff quietly thanks God for his fast reflexes. If not for that, he wouldn’t have ducked at the exact second when he felt something come towards his head. 

He’s dodged- and barely has a moment to process what he was even dodging- when he feels himself being tackled to the dirty ground. 

“Die, you son of a bitch!” A distinctly-female voice cries out, and he feels something being stabbed into his cheek. 

Nails, he thinks to himself. They’re rusty nails. His panicked eyes finally meet that of an attacker, he manages to make out a... white face? No, a mask. It’s a mask! Wait, fuck that, he doesn’t have time to think about it right now. After she missed with what he assumed was a knife, she used the nails, he reckons. A dirty trick, really. But he’s lucky, a couple of centimeters to the left and she would have taken out his eyeball- good thing she seems to have bad aim. So his eyeball is safe for now.

The flesh next to his eye, however, is not. And the more that those nails dig into his skin, the deeper they go, the more it hurts. Any deeper, he’s going to start having some real problems.

The metal part of his leather boot goes straight into her stomach, pushing her off him. Jeff remembers being little and being told ‘Never hit a girl.’ but he honestly couldn’t give less of a shit about any of that, and posits as much force into his kick as possible.

Her hands are clutching the nails hard though, and they go with her. Feeling them rip out of his face makes Jeff cry out for a second, and he tries not to contemplate how embarrassing that sound he just made was.

She hits the ground a couple of feet apart from him, not seeming very perturbed at being kicked in the stomach. She falters on her feet for a second before starting to run back towards him. While she does, Jeff uses the opportunity to grab his own knife out of his pocket and hold it up in self-defense. 

“Back off you crazy bitch! I’m not gonna just let you kill me without a fight!”

She stops dead in her tracks. While the expression she makes behind the mask can’t be seen, he bets she’s probably looking pretty surprised right now. It’s only for a second thought, and she starts walking towards him, slower this time, and he starts to walk backward at an even faster pace.

“Who the hell even are you?” he yells. “Why the fuck do you wanna kill me so bad? I’ll kill you first, I mean it!”

That makes her stop for real this time. 

“Do you-” she startles, seemingly offended. “Do you not know me?”

“Should I?”

There’s a long, awkward silence where neither of them says anything. 

“You seriously don’t remember me....” she starts. “We-we went to the same middle school!”

Jeff scoffs. “I’m almost an adult now! You think I remember everybody I went to middle school with?”

Everything goes silent again, and Jeff can imagine her enraged stare behind the mask, even if he can’t see it.

“You set my house on fire! You killed my parents!” she points her knife at him accusingly. “You took everything away from me!”

“Listen, I don’t remember every house I’ve burned down, every pair of parents I’ve killed! I kill people all the time, okay? Asking me to remember them all is kind of asking a lot.”

“Asking a lot?” The rage is practically radiating off her in waves. She yanks off her mask with vigor and exposes her face to him.

Her face is marred top to bottom with angry-looking burn scars. They travel up and down her face, across, sideways and down her neck. Her face is a mutilated thing, somewhat similar to his own in a way. Their burn scars almost resemble each other, somewhat. Upon closer inspection, the black hair isn’t actually connected, but is actually a wig. Huh, what about that. She’s staring at him, waiting for him to say or do anything. 

Expectantly, angrily, exasperatedly.

“Sorry, still not ringing a bell.”

She lets out an incomprehensible yell of anger before lunging forward again. Well, he tried his best. Apparently this is some girl who’s parents he killed. Augh, what a pain. He hates emotional types. Out for revenge? Get a life, who cares. 

“Why don’t you just-” he runs forward this time, instead of running away. He feels her knife connect with his shoulder, but ignores how bad it feels. He grabs the side of her head with his hand, his fingernails digging into her skin. “-fuck off and leave me alone!” 

In one clean movement, her head connects with his knee, making a sickening crunch sound. She slumps to the ground like a ragdoll, eyes dim and lifeless. 

She isn’t dead, although he kinda wishes she was. She’s just been put out of commission for the time being (he hopes). Gritting his teeth and bracing for the pain, he yanks the knife out of the shoulder, making a small noise of pain when it leaves.

“Sorry about your parents or whatever.” he says to her unconscious body. “Except not really. Cause I don’t care. Goodbye.”

He turns on his heel and runs away.

Before he had been walking along leisurely, but now he’s sped up into a run. He’s gotta get out of here, and quick. Is this what his victims feel like when he chases them? Ugh, it sucks. Doesn’t make him feel guilty, of course. Just reminds how much he loathes not being in control.

He’s made it about 30 feet by now, feet hitting the ground in quickening pat-pat-pat noises, using nothing but the cold glow of the dim street lights to guide him to safety.

Oh, but of course it isn’t that easy, because it’s never that easy, it’s never that easy, is it?

Just when he thinks that he’s done with all this, that he’s about to put this whole ordeal behind him-

“Get back here you asshole!”

He cranes his neck back and- oh Jesus- was she that fast before? She’s barrelling towards him like an angry bull, knife (with some of his blood still on it) outstretched and ready for the kill. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck- He starts to run faster, beginning to distinctly feel less like the predator and more like the prey. He hates this shit, it’s so goddamn annoying. How did she even wake up after he knocked her out cold? Did he not hit her hard enough?

Either way, he has to lose her and fast. They do an almost cartoonish cat-and-mouse style chase, looping through alleyways and bending around corner after corner. As she yells threats about how she’s going to slice him into ribbons, and how he should be praying to God for forgiveness, Jeff wonders to himself how such a perfect day could have gone so wrong so fast.

He manages to duck into an abandoned structure without her noticing, and she runs off in some random direction- thank God. His hands- which are, oh my god, is he shaking, that’s embarrassing- fumble around his pockets. Where’s his flip phone, where’s his flip phone- he starts to panic, wondering if he could have misplaced it, just like his lighter earlier and- okay! There it is. Frantically he begins to dial a familiar number, thanking whatever powers that be- God, Jesus, Satan, Buddha, the Watcher or whatever- that Jack picked up so quickly.

He doesn’t even waste time before he starts to speak. “Jack! Come pick me up! Like, right fucking now. It’s an emergency.”

Jack, like the bastard he is, has the audacity to sound bored. “Like, in a car?” he draws out.

“Of course the fuck not! You’re an interdimensional-space-creature-demon-whatever, I know you can just shadow-travel or teleport or whatever it’s called here- just do that!” He glances over his shoulder, unable to keep the panic out of his tone. “Preferably at this exact second, like right now.”

“Hm… asking a lot, to be honest.”

“Asking a lot?” he squawks.

“Well, you haven’t even done the pleasure of explaining why you’re so damn desperate for my help. I don’t do things for no reason, you know.”

“Fucking-” He hates him, he hates him, holy shit- he hates him. “-fine! Fucking fine! I’m being chased by some goth chick- says I killed her parents- I kill a lot of people, so yeah I probably did- and now she wants to kill me- just come fucking pick me up, asshole!”

“Wow, sometimes it’s hard to believe you’re a wanted serial killer. Can’t even deal with one girl?” His voice is thick with mock sympathy. “What happened to you? What happened to your reputation? Jeffery the Smiling Killer, the one the papers wrote about? They described you as ‘utterly ruthless’, you know-”

“I got stabbed in the shoulder, you dick!” Jeff yells into the phone. “And in the face!” The flesh around his eye twinges. “And she’s a persistent one, I’ll tell you! Got back up after I’d thought I’d knocked her out. She’s a resilient little murderous bitch, and she isn’t planning on stopping anytime soon, so-” He snaps every word out forcefully. “Can-you-please-” -he chokes out the ‘please’ as if it physically pained him to say- “come-pick-me-up?!”

There’s a long pause where Jack says nothing, and the only noises that can be heard are Jeff’s pained breathing and the wind howling outside. 

“No, I don’t think I will.”

Jeff can’t help himself from screaming in frustration, clenching his phone so tight it might break between his fingers. 

“Why the hell not!”

“It’s just one girl. Deal with it yourself, Jeffery.”

Jeff opens his mouth to scream again, but the line has already gone dead before he can vocalize his rage to Jeack. When he hears the click, he really does scream, planning inside his head all the different ways he wants to flay Jack, when-

“Found you.”

He starts to walk towards the wall, backing up against it as he slowly spins around. It isn’t at all a surprise who he comes face to face with- the murderous goth bitch.

“I don’t even know who the fuck you are,” he growls, pulling his knife out of his jacket. He doubts he’ll be able to put up a good fight, with his shoulder having been stabbed- and on the dominant side of his body no less- but he might as well try. “You don’t have to take it so personally.”

“You mailed a wig, a dress and a mask to the hospital I was staying at!” she snarls. “It’s like you were practically asking me to become a vigilante!”

“The mask…” he thinks for a moment, suddenly realizing where he’s seen it before. “Oh, from the fucking Halloween store!”

Giving him some slight deja-vu, the girl stops dead in her tracks once again. “The halloween store?” She sounds incredulous. 

“Yeah, and the wig and the dress too…” he says as the fuzzy middle-school memory fades back to him. “I remember now. Sending it and shit. That was a prank.”

“A prank?!”

“Yeah, like a practical joke.” Jeff states. “I thought it would be, like, funny.”

Her entire body shakes and trembles, almost like there’s too much rage to be contained within her flesh.

“Was it funny-” she starts to run towards him again. “-when you killed my family!” 

Jeff almost wants to answer yes just to see her get more pissed off, but it’s hard to talk with her on top of him. The knife falls out his hand on impact as they both fall to the floor- and he gets tackled by this random goth chick for the second time that day. If there’s one thing he can give her, it’s that she’s been putting on more weight than his bony ass- and his injuries aren’t helping his already skinny-body in the first place.

The only way he’d gotten her off the first time was having the energy and being fast enough, but now he’s sluggish and tired, and can’t move, and can’t help but think Am I really gonna die here? In this musty ass abandoned clothing store?

She raises the knife high above his head. “My name is Jane Keane. I am the daughter of the man and woman who you senselessly murdered those years ago.” The knife starts to come down. “Remember this when you burn in hell.”

The knife gets closer, and closer, and the blade is inches away from his face, centimeters from his face. It’s going to- he’s going to-

Except he doesn’t. A weird black mist, fog or energy surrounds the two of them, and suddenly Jeff is gone.

He’s back, in the shed- in the woods. Oh god, he’d never been so happy to see those unsanitary, ugly wooden boards. He’d take a second to sigh in relief if he didn’t have something else to do.

He spins around, facing his masked ‘friend’.

“What took you so fucking long?”

“I have no idea what you could be talking about.”

“Oh, fuck you, don’t all coy and shit-”

“No need to be so tense. Try and relax a bit.”

“I almost died!”

“Sounds like a you-problem.”

“It almost- quite literally- isn’t! It’s her problem!” He kicks the rotting wall, shoe making a couple dents in the aging plywood. “Wish she’d just fuck off and leave me alone!”

“Who is she, anyhow?” 

“Names ‘Jane’. Got a real hate-thing for me. Wants me dead, the whole shebang.” He sighs exasperatedly, scratching the top of his head. “I hate emotional types. Self righteous types. Acting all morally superior and shit. Who does she think she is?”

“Indeed.” Jack says, the word indicating that he agrees with Jeff, but the tone indicating he doesn't actually give a damn about anything Jeff is complaining about. 

“I swear to god if I ever see her again-”

“You’ll what?” Jack cuts in, and despite not being able to see his face Jack can feel the smug smile in his voice. “Run away and beg for me to come save you again?”

“Oh, fuck off!”

**Author's Note:**

> Some notes:
> 
> -These are my interpretations, so their last names are different. (see: Jane Keane) 
> 
> -"The Watcher" is what Slenderman is going to be referred to as in this fanfiction. 
> 
> -This is me first shot at writing in a long time, so feedback is appreciated!


End file.
